


La Basse Couture

by Pat_is_fannish



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clothing, Crack, Gen, Humour, Who-let-you-out-dressed-like-that?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pat_is_fannish/pseuds/Pat_is_fannish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's clothes are fine, just fine.  Aren't they?</p>
<p>Rated Teen for some mature language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Basse Couture

**Author's Note:**

> Miri of SIYE couldn't help with this one. I'm lost without her Beta eyes. Apologies in advance for the resulting mistakes, all my own. 
> 
> Also, not Brit picked. Comments pointing out any errors will earn kisses (not kicks) from this Canadian.

John paused at the lounge door and queried over his shoulder, “Ready, Sherlock?”

“No.”

“No?” 

“No, John. **You** are not ready. You're not going out dressed like that.” 

“What are you on about now?” The doctor looked down at his clothing. “Denim jeans. White polo shirt. Denim jacket. Since we're headed to Lestrade's crime scene, not Buck House, I don't see - ”

“No, clearly you don't.” The detective closed the space between them in three long strides. He yanked at the – apparently – transgressing blazer. “Denim, yes: but this is a lightweight pale blue chambray, and those jeans are a saturated dark indigo rinse. Only an idiot would wear them together.” Sherlock next grabbed the neck of the shirt. “And the piping on this collar? It's red, John.”

“It's **also** blue.” John struggled to keep his tone neutral.

“It's **also** ugly. Oh, wait: do I see a pocket with a little animal logo on it? I _do._ " Sherlock's inflection dripped sarcasm. "Did you buy this gem on clearance at Marks and Sparks?” 

“It was a gift. From a friend.” The doctor's icy tone implied no one present fit that description. 

“And exactly what are on your feet?” 

“Sandals,” John spat, then clenched his jaw. 

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Sherlock spun, and galloped up the stairs. John heard the noise of rummaging and a slammed wardrobe door. A tall dark whirlwind descended moments later, dropped a pile of clothing on the floor, and proceeded to yank items out of the conglomeration. 

“Acid wash jeans. These are only half a size too large, unlike most of the rest of your clothing. Put them on.” He tossed them in John's face.

“Chambray shirt. Yes, yes, it has a hole where I dropped acid from that experiment. But the collar is fine, and consider the other bit mere ventilation. What's more important is it matches the colour of the jeans.” The shirt followed the identical trajectory as the trousers. 

“Ultra fine gauge summer weight cotton jumper, V-neck, in a shade of azure that flatters your eyes.” Sherlock held it up in front of himself, then shot an inquiring gaze at his flatmate.

“Yesss...you gave me that. For my birthday.”

“And yet, you've never worn it.” Sherlock's intonation made it an accusation.

John squirmed. “A bit posh for me, isn't it? And, well, not all that warm?” 

“ _Summer weight._ ” The doctor suddenly had a face full of pullover. “It's July. Put it on.” The voice brooked no argument. “And here are your trainers. Take those...those **things** off your feet.” 

John sighed. But he shed the offending articles of clothing, and donned the substitutes. Because, really, was there any point in arguing? 

Finished, John spread his arms and slowly turned a full circle. “Satisfied?” he taunted.

“Unexceptional,” Sherlock agreed. “Which is apparently the style you aspire to.”

“Fine.” John scooped up the hat from the chair, and put it on his head. “Let's go.” 

“ **John.** ” There was horror in the detective's tone normally reserved for mythical hounds. 

“What? The hat? Sherlock, hats are cool. Even the eleventh Doctor says so.” 

“Irony, John. You need to learn to detect irony when you hear it.” 

“Fine, it's all fine.” John took off the hat. “Let's go, we're bloody late. Lestrade will skin us both.” 

***

Much later, at the crime scene, Donovan sidled up to John. “So, Doctor. Looking good. Got a new girlfriend who's buying your clothes for you?”

He widened his eyes, and kept his gaze firmly locked on the sergeant. “No. Just...y'know...stuff grabbed out of the wardrobe. Nothing new.” 

Donovan took a short step back, and pointedly looked him up, then down again. “Much better than usual.” Her grin was almost a leer. “Well done, you.” She pivoted, and walked away. 

When John finally let his gaze stray towards his flatmate, the bastard was smirking.

***

The next day, John found tiny pieces of the hat with the rubbish, in the bin.

**Author's Note:**

> ComicCon 2012. 
> 
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m77yk3p8eR1qmxg8ho4_1280.jpg
> 
> Thanks to sithdragn for pointing out the photo above. It was even better than the one I emailed to her. And by "better", of course I mean "worse".
> 
> It's probably inappropriate for me to want to take a real person's hat and cut it into little pieces. But, if it belonged to a fictional character instead? Oh, yeah: I **so** know another fictional character who could take care of that for me.


End file.
